Take Care
by Blackleatherjacketz
Summary: Frank saved you a while back and feels a need to check up on you after work.
1. Chapter 1

"Do you always have to work twelve hours?" His voice cuts through the cool spring morning like a knife.

"Frank," You turn and stare at his battered face as he walks into the glow of the street lamp. "What are you…" You pause, smiling as your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. "What are you doing here?"

"I figured your shift would be over soon." He approaches you slowly, his hands snug in the pockets of his hoodie.

"Do you always stay up at night waiting for nurses to get off work?" You tease.

You can't believe that he's following up on you, that he actually wanted to see you again. He's had to have saved dozens of people on the streets of New York City, stronger people, more important people than you. Someone like Frank doesn't have time to keep up on everyone he's kept out of trouble… does he?

"Only those I need to check up on." His voice drops down an octave, vibrating in his chest as he takes a few steps in your direction. He takes his time staring at you, his eyes soft against the warm lights of the parking lot.

"You think I need checked up on?"

You meet his pace as you inch forward, the two of you meeting directly beneath the flickering lamplight. You tilt your head to see that the bruises on his face are in multiple stages of healing; his cheek is yellow and green, his eye black and purple, his lip red and cracked. He hasn't fought anyone in a few days from the looks of it, but that was only judging from his face. You haven't seen the rest of his body yet.

"You work in a pretty shitty part of town, so yeah." He looks away from you, catching a glimpse of a cab driving by. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Are you okay?" You lift a hand to his cheek, barely brushing it with your fingertips.

He looks different in front of you tonight, his hood resting gently against his neck. You think back to when you first saw him, when fear and adrenaline rushed through your veins, making him seem like a wild animal. A wild animal that came out of nowhere, eyes glowing black against the night sky with a white skull painted on his chest. A wild animal that growled as he pulled your assailant off of you and into his fists. A wild animal that beat him so badly, blood and bone flew into the air like liquid hot fireworks, splattering against his face. A wild animal that now stands before you, tamed and calm.

He lets you touch his face, slightly leaning into the warmth of your hand. His heavy eyelids drop once, twice, three times as you graze the apple of his cheek with your thumb. His chest rises and falls, like slow waves on the ocean as your hand slides down his neck and onto his shoulder. You can tell it had been a long time since someone had touched him like this.

"I'm alright." His eyes spring open as you take your hand away, letting it fall to your side. "Figure I owe you a cup of coffee for stitching me up the other night."

"You don't owe me anything, Frank, and it's a little late for coffee." You nod your head toward the clock in the courtyard… 4:15 a.m.

"Nah, it's early." His lips curl into a smirk, flashing a smile for the first time since you've met him. "Let me buy you a cup; walk you home, at least." He pauses and takes his hands out of his pockets, tracing the skin on the back of your arm before gently squeezing your elbow. "Please?"

You can't deny wanting to spend more time with him, or the fact that you couldn't stop thinking about him since that night. You didn't want to admit it, not to yourself, and definitely not to him. You didn't move to New York City to become some helpless damsel in distress, to rely on some man for your protection. You moved here to take care of sick patients who needed your help, though it didn't seem like you were off to a very good start.

"Alright." You answer, trying not to get lost in the sensation of his fingertips. "You can walk me home, but only because I need to look at those stitches again."

His smile widens, threatening to break open the scab that's formed on his upper lip. "Fair enough."

—

Frank enters your kitchen with a lot less blood trailing from his knuckles this time. He isn't clasping at his abdomen or limping onto your bar stool as you chase after him with your first aid kit. He isn't apologizing for getting blood and glass all over your nice clean floor while he chokes down the pain from his wounds.

"Take off your shirt, I want to make sure your wound hasn't dehisced." You place your purse on the other chair and step in front of him.

"Make sure it hasn't what?" He unzips his sweatshirt and winces as he pulls his arms out of his sleeves.

"I want to make sure it hasn't opened up again." You school him, narrowing your brow as he tosses his sweatshirt behind him.

You look up and quickly notice that he isn't wearing a shirt underneath his hoodie. His perfectly toned torso prevents you from looking at anything else in the room. You try your best to keep your composure, but Jesus Christ, is he immaculate! You'd almost forgotten how good he looks in the stress of sewing him up the other night, but you can't think of how you could have forgotten something like that: someone like him. His pecs are perfectly taught, his abs cut precisely into six individual muscle groups, each flexing as you run your palm over them to make your way to his cut.

"You look good… IT looks good… you're stitches look... good." You let out an exasperated breath. "Your wound is healing well." God dammit, get ahold of yourself.

"Thanks, Doc." He chides, watching your hand as it slowly travels up his abdomen. He smiles softly and places a hand on top of yours, squeezing it tenderly as it finally rests on his heart.

"You take care of me… I'll take care of you." You whisper, afraid to lift your head and look at him.

"Yeah," he nods, leaning forward as his grip on your hand gets tighter.

You swallow hard as a knot starts to form in your stomach, forcing you to recognize the electricity shooting up from where his skin meets yours. Something as simple as hand-holding sounds childish, immature, unimportant, even; but it's never felt so good. The harsh calluses on his fingers ghost over the back of your knuckles as you finally look up and meet him.

His crooked nose brushes your cheek before he kisses you. Lips softer than you'd imagined barely press into yours as he rubs the back of your hand. A hint of black coffee reaches your mouth as you stand on your tiptoes to kiss him back, opening your mouth to his soft and patient tongue.

You lift your other hand to his cheek, trying not to press too hard on his healing flesh as you bring him in close. His breath is warm and calm as you take him in, inhaling and exhaling in sync with each other as if you were meant to do so from the very beginning. You want to jump on top of him, to throw him down on your kitchen counter and consume every inch of him, but something… Something slows your thought process down before he pulls away.

"You need to sleep." He whispers in between pecks on your bottom lip.

"So do you." You kiss his cheek and then his lips. "You could stay here tonight."

"I'll take the couch, let you rest." He lifts his hand and brushes your cheek with the back of his knuckle. "Let me take care of you."


	2. Chapter 2

These New York City streets get colder as Frank makes a habit of meeting you outside the hospital after your shifts. His schedule is scattered, not showing up every time that you work, but still making his presence known. He brings you cocoa to warm your hands, locking arms with yours when your coat doesn't quite do its job on the long walk home. His body heat comforts you as you pull him in close, walking side by side past the alley you used to be so afraid of.

You never knew that this was something you wanted, something you needed. You always took your safety for granted when you walked the streets back home, but here it was different. Here you always had to be on your guard, on the lookout for a potential threat. Frank makes you forget all of that. He makes you feel like you're the most protected woman in the world.

You decide to invite him in, half expecting him to give you a line about some phone call he has to make or a business partner he has to visit. You expect him to kiss your forehead, squeeze your hand and disappear into the dusk like he always does. You expect him to keep you at the distance you're so used to keeping everyone else. You're shocked when he actually agrees to come up, a smile breaking apart those beautiful lips of his.

Hands have never been so eager to disrobe you, to pull you close, to really feel you, as his are right now. Warm and gentle, they hold the back of your neck as he kisses you with the same ferocity you saw him fight with the other night. His fingers weave through your hair, massaging your scalp as he draws you into his perfect mouth.

"God you're beautiful." He whispers into your cheek, wrapping his other hand around your waist.

Am I? You think to yourself, making sure not to vocalize your insecurity. You wrap your legs around his waist as he hoists you up onto the kitchen counter, still shocked that someone as powerful as him could want someone like you. You're average at best, and he's… well… look at him! You pull his shirt off over his head as he breaks away from your kiss, revealing those broad shoulders as his hands start to tug on your scrub top.

"Is this okay?" He asks, his swollen lips brushing against your chin.

"Yes." You want to scream it. "Yes!" You whisper, smoothing your hand up the fade of his high and tight haircut. You rub the base of his skull, feeling the short and fuzzy hairs tickle your palm as your fingertips brush his obsidian locks on top.

His kiss intensifies as he pulls your shirt and bra off, dropping them onto the floor. Your pants and underwear quickly disappear as you return the favor and feel him grow against your thighs.

Oh god, this is it. You can feel his heart race, smell his sweat, taste the salt in his skin. You're closer to him than you've been with anyone for a very long time. You spread your legs as you feel the moisture between them accumulate, his tip spreading it up and down your length as he stares at you with soft and hungry eyes.

His hand falls to your shoulder as he presses into you, keeping those eyes locked and loaded on your face as it changes. His lips part as he watches himself enter you, slowly at first, gently moaning as he disappears inside of you inch by inch.

You do your best not to tense up, the anticipation of him filling you almost as sweet as the actual sensation itself. His grip on your shoulder gets tighter as he pulls out of you halfway, only to thrust inside of you again and again. His pace is slow, tantalizing as he looks you over with pleasure and curiosity.

Low grunts ring in your ears as he speeds up his hips, pulling you into him so close that you're afraid you might fall off the kitchen counter. You wrap your hands around his neck as he hits your cervix, sending shots of pleasure up your spine and into your brain. You find his rhythm and move with him, clenching and relaxing your muscles around his massive punishing member.

"Frank," You whisper into his ear. "Oh, Frank!" You close your eyes and listen to the sound of his slick skin sliding inside of yours. You feel your calves start to contract, your toes begin to curl as his grunts turn into growls against your clavicle.

Sweat drips down your stomach as his hands reach your ass, pulling you against him as his pace becomes wild and erratic. Those shots of pleasure travel quicker through your nervous system as you moan into his ear, threatening to send you to the other side. You hear your deep and heavy breaths as if you were in another room, listening to your exertions behind a closed door.

You hook your legs behind Frank's, pulling him in as close as possible as he whispers your name. Nothing you've ever heard until now has sounded so sweet, so perfect. You curl your feet around his calves as your breath hitches, the intense pleasure of him spilling inside of you forcing the air out of your lungs.

"Oh my god, Frank!" You manage to gasp.

He places a hand on your cheek as he twitches inside of you, his thumb smoothing the fine hair on your face. A soft smile crosses his lips before they meet yours again, his taste different than before. His chest heaves up and down as his fingers smooth their way through your messy locks, slightly tugging on them before pulling away from your mouth.

"I haven't been with anyone for a while," He starts, resting his forehead on yours. "I'm sorry if I…"

"No," You stop him, running your fingers across the shell of his ear. "I haven't either."

You smile and lift your head, kissing the folds of his furrowed brow. You wonder how someone like him could possibly go a long time without someone trying to get between his legs, but figure that's a conversation for another time. You start a trail of kisses on his forehead, moving into his hairline and around his ears until he finally rests his chin on your shoulder.

The two of you remain like this, for how long, you can't be sure, but you wish it had lasted just a little longer when he finally pulls out of you and leads you to your bedroom.

"Let's go to bed."


End file.
